


Painting Flowers

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst for later, Artists, Face blindness, Fluff, I love fluffy stuff, M/M, Musicians, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person, Viktor is a painter/violinist., Yuuri has prosopagnosia, Yuuri plays the piano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a dreadful accident, Yuuri lost his ability to recognize faces, and well, his inspiration to write musical scores again. He decided to move to Russia, for a change, and everything did change when he saw a certain painting in an art museum.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work for this fandom. I'm sorry for any mistake in this. English is not my first language

Snow fell down from the grey skies. He forgot his muffler again and his hands were freezing. He rubbed it together to warm himself up a little bit as he walked over the streets again in search for a part-time job, at least.

 

He had a feeling that he got lost again, even if he was around this place just a few weeks ago. He fished his phone from his pocket to check the Maps app.

 

Thank heavens, he realized that he was still on the right track. The map says that he was supposed to turn around that corner and he should see the building right across the art museum.

 

It was proven to be very difficult for him to find a job because of his situation, but he cannot continue relying on his parents forever. He had caused them a lot of fortune, after all. At the very least, he can move around on his own again.

It took him at least two years of physical therapy before he could be fully functional like before, but there are wounds that cannot be healed.

 

He was snapped out of his train of thought when he bumped on someone. "Oh... Yuuri? Is that you? It has been two years! I'm glad you're okay now!" he looked up on his phone to see a man smiling at him. He had only known a few people with those kind of eyebrows, and he still remembered his voice from before.

"Phichit?" he asked tentatively. Phichit was his roommate back in the music school. He played the violin really well, and he was pretty mediocre in the piano. What were the odds that they would actually meet here?

The man laughed and patted his shoulder. "Why didn't you even answer my emails? I was worried about you."

"I'm really sorry," he looked down on his feet. He felt guilty about it, but there was nothing he could do about depression.

 

"It's okay. I'm glad to see you fine now, " the Thai looked on his watch before waving him goodbye. Phichit said that he would be late for work. He was hired by an animation studio and he said that they have an ongoing project now. 

 

He almost choked on the word 'fine.' He was never fine, ever since that event. Their meeting was short and brief, but it had him on the edge again. Sure, he could differentiate people's voices quite easily, especially if he had talked or listened to them for quite a long time, but what if he was mistaken? It was very scary too. People's faces felt like a dream, and he could not recognize them. He could not even recognize himself while staring at the looking glass.

 

The black haired male clutched his knapsack just because he needed something to hold on to. It made him feel a little calmer.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri solemnly went out of the building. Not many people hire people like him, and he had to admit, his compositions were... lackluster.

The sun had already set once the audition was done.

He just went with the flow of people crossing the street, as he was thinking of his failure yet again.

When they finally crossed the street, he looked up to the art museum and pondered for a little while. Should he go in? It would be a nice change of pace.

"Good evening, sir!" the girl on the counter greeted him. It was a well-practiced greeting. He just nodded and paid for his admission. "We have a lot of new and special exhibits today. We also have Viktor Nikiforov's art right now," she added cheerfully.

Yuuri heard that name somewhere before, but he could not be sure. He walked towards the paintings section of the museum, and there it was. It was not even the centerpiece, but for some reason, it captivated him.

He neared the painting, just like a hypnotized man and took a blank music sheet and a pen from his bag. Yuuri started to write notes on the blank music sheet and tried to imagine the notes for now. He could revise them later.

The painting was quite simple. It was a painting of sunflower fields under the warm rays of sunshine. He could almost feel the warmth himself despite being in this room.

He hummed his tune softly and felt quite satisfied of his work, even if it was not quite finished yet. Yuuri was enthralled by the by the work so much that he lost track of time. He just realized that the guard was asking him to leave for they were already closing.

He would just have to come back tomorrow, then. Maybe, he could also pick up some new music sheets too. He produced his cellphone again to check his maps as he walked out of the museum.

* * *

 

The trip to his house was not that long. He fumbled for his keys on his bag and open the door. "I'm home!" he announced.

The house was quiet, and dark. Then, he remembers that he was not living with his parents, anymore. He felt a little homesick. It has been a few weeks since he moved here

. He went inside and locked the door. He removed his shoes and neatly placed them on the rack. He remembered leaving some breaded pork chop for dinner  in the fridge and he reheated them in the microwave.

After a short, peaceful dinner, he took his music sheet from earlier andwent to the room that he had not been using since he moved here. His parents were very kind. They still wanted him to take it with him - his piano.

The room was dark, and dusty. He never really went in here for days. He flickered the lights open and took a cloth to wipe the dust off. He loved this piano a lot. He had been with it since he was a kid.

"I'm sorry for not taking care of you," he mumbled as he finished cleaning the dust off. He sat down on the chair and started playing the notes that he wrote a while ago. The beautiful melody, started to fill the air, and he himself started to enjoy it.

* * *

 

A white haired man with blue eyes walking outside stopped on his tracks when he heard the music coming from his house.

He smiled as he listened to the notes of it, when it abruptly stopped. The tall man pursed his lips in disappointment.

The score was still unfinished. "That was probably my new neighbor," he smiled to himself and walked to the house next door.

* * *

 

"You have been staring at that painting for a while now," Yuuri almost dropped his sheets in surprise. It was a deep voice,  yet there was warmth on it. He could also assume that he was Russian.

The black haired man took a step back, and bowed a little. "I'm sorry." The taller man smiled and placed his hands on his pockets.

"It's okay. This is one of my first paintings. Most people's attention were on to my newer ones," he gestured over his other paintings

The other man was quiet and can't hardly believe it. He was just talking to the man who made this painting - Viktor Nikiforov.

"I saw you yesterday as well," the tall man stated conversationally, and the other just replied with a timid "yes."

He pondered for a little while and placed his finger under his chin. "How about I just give you this painting?"

The man's hazel brown eyes widened and immediately raised his hands, dropping all his sheets on the carpeted floor. "No!! I cannot pay for something _this_  expensive!" he placed an emphasis on the word 'this'.

Even if he worked his ass off his whole life, he could not still probably pay for it. The taller man bent to pick the papers up and Yuuri scurried to do so, as well.

"No, wait! I can do this. I'm sorry!" he apologized. The Russian man chuckled as he picked up the first page. "Silly. This was nothing." His facial expression changed when he saw the notes. It looked very familiar. In fact, he was certain that he heard it last night.

 

"Say, were you the one playing the piano last night? You live in St. Petersburg too, right?" The other man was taken aback by his questions and just nodded. He was still shocked by the fact that Viktor actually lived next door.

"I'm very sorry for bothering you," he bowed his head again. He had not considered that he might be bothering someone. Viktor first stood up and reached his hand to Yuuri. "How about a trade?" he flashed a bright smile, his ocean blue eyes gleaming.

"I'll give you this painting and you'll finish that score for me. How does that sound?" Hazel eyes blinked owlishly in disbelief, and he could only say, "E-eh?!!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I PROMISED A LONGER CHAPTER, BUT I CANNOT HELP BUT UPDATE AGAIN. LOL
> 
> Please, tell me what you guys think  
> I need more motivation pls. This was stil unbeta'd
> 
> I edited shit here. I kinda noticed that it was very fast, I'm so sorry
> 
> I added a scene too.

Viktor was a young, living legend. He was a multi-talented artist who won multiple international awards these past two years.

He was great with the violin and Yuuri tried watching his solo performance on YouTube. Just like how he was enthralled by that sunflower painting, he also felt like falling deep into it.

It was one of the most difficult pieces ever, yet, he performed it with finesse and beauty -  Ernst's The Last Rose of Summer.

He took the world by storm in the last two years, and he could hardly ever believe that this man was actually living right next to his door.

* * *

He was cutting some ingredients for his dinner when his doorbell rang. It was the first time it ever rang since he moved in this place.

Yuuri had an idea who it was, but he would not really want to assume anything. He placed his knife down for a little while and headed for the door.

The door had at least three different kinds of locks and it took him a while to open it. "Yuuri! Good evening!" the man greeted him in a warm voice, that was in contrast with the cold winds outside the apartment.

It was a voice that he could certainly recognize - especially the way he says his name. His inkling was right.

"G-good evening," he greeted him back, albeit with less enthusiasm. "Ah. P-please come in," he moved aside and invited  him in to his humble abode.

There was nothing much there. It was a two bedroom apartment - one of them was the piano room.

He did not have much stuff here, save for the black piano. Viktor was carrying with him the painting, wrapped with cloth.

However, Yuuri was still not sure if the music he would make was actually worth it. He's a lot better than him, too.

"Where should I put this?" the Russian man asked, referring to his own painting. Yuuri was about to politely decline now, but he spoke up again.

"How about your piano room?" he went on to his house without Yuuri's permission, opened one of the room doors and was very delighted to realize that he actually opened the door to his piano room.

Yuuri followed him, and tried to speak up again as the other was hanging it on the wall.

"Viktor, I really can't..." The said man came near him as he finished hanging the painting in Yuuri's wall.

"Nonsense, you already said 'yes' back in the museum, right?" he placed a finger on the smaller man's lips to stop him from speaking any further, and Yuuri was very uncomfortable with the distance. He quickly moved some steps back.

He remembered that he actually did say 'yes' back then, but now he regretted it a little. He didn't want to back out from his words, but what if his work don't come out satisfying?

Viktor moved around his house, and Yuuri just watched him do so. The taller man noticed the chopped ingredients on the counter.

"Oh, you're cooking something?" Crap. He almost forgot about his dinner.

"Ah, yes."

"What are you making?"

"I'll be making some katsudon," he replied, as he moved towards the kitchen counter to finish preparing his ingredients. It was something that he could cook well, at least.

"Katsudon?" he mimicked in his own accent.

"Pork cutlet bowl," Yuuri translated it for him.

"Hmm, I see. I look forward to tasting it, then!"

The Japanese man _almost_ cut his finger accidentally when he heard him say that.

"You'll eat here?!" he asked almost incredulously, hazel eyes widening.

"You don't want me to?"

"No! I didn't say that."

"Well, then!" he sat down on one of the chairs on the dining room, and watched the younger man cook dinner. It felt really awkward at first, but his stomach was yelling curses at him and that was how he went on cooking it, anyway.

After a few more minutes the aroma of katsudon filled the air and to Yuuri's relief, the ingredients made enough servings for two people.

Viktor mirrored Yuuri's movements, and said "Thanks for the food!" before eating his own serving. His ocean blue eyes gleamed again as he ate Yuuri's katsudon and said, "Vkusno!" It was one of the few Russian words that Yuuri actually knew, but it made his heart skip a beat when Viktor said that his cooking was delicious.

Soon after, Viktor waved him good night and left. The house was awfully quiet again. It had always been like this, but right now, it felt a little empty.

He opened the television, even though he rarely watched anything at all. He just liked to keep it open. Silence could be very stifling at times. He cleaned up the table and washed the dishes, before taking a shower and going to bed.

* * *

The next day, he went to the supermarket. He kept looking on his maps app so that he would not get lost. 

He would really have to learn to read Cyrillic. 

The Japanese man took some condiments and placed it on his cart. He also picked up some chicken, pork and some vegetables.

He wanted to make some stir fry vegetables later. 

It has been two years, but he still feel very unsettled whenever he talked to other people. It's quite difficult for him to make eye contact with people, nor even try to look at them on the face. 

Just then someone patted him on the shoulder, and a surge of panic came over him. He turned on his heel to face the person and took steps back.

Even as before the accident, he disliked body contact with other people, especially with strangers.

"Who are..." 

The man must have noticed his scared facial expression and held his hand up.

"Relax, it's me, Yuuri!" 

Yuuri tried a quick search on his memory banks and remember who that voice belonged to. 

"Viktor," he concluded, looking away from him. 

"What are you getting?" he asked, peeking on Yuuri's cart.

"Something for dinner," he replied, still not moving from there.

Whether Viktor noticed his unsettled expression or not, it did not faze him, and still went on a shopping spree with him.

* * *

 

Yuuri never really gave it a thought, but he never took time to look around this place since he arrived here. His sense of direction was pretty bad and if he actually tried sightseeing alone, he might never make it back home. St. Petersburg was quite famous for its beaches.

However, today being a cold December, no one bothers to go there in the early morning. The nights were pretty cramped up though, because of the bars on the beachside.

Viktor told him that if he wanted to write great piece, he would need both inspiration and motivation - that was why he asked him to do an early jog with him. The sound of seagulls filled the cold morning air, as they stood at the beach.

Yuuri wondered why did he wanted him to finish that piece. He never really thought of naming it, in the first place.

"Is there a beach like this in your place, Yuuri?" he asked conversationally.

The younger man nodded, "Yes."

"You live in Kyushu, right? I heard that it was cold there, as well."

"Yes, and it sometimes snows on April."

"I really want to see your place," Viktor chuckled a little.

They stayed like that for a short while before they on went back.

* * *

  Viktor comes to his apartment frequently now, asking about his progress. He always replied that he was still not done with his first movement at all. He could not find himself to focus.

Viktor would just always smile at him and tell him that he could wait.

However, during the nights when he was alone, he found himself staring at the painting, and a sudden surge of inspiration will come over him again.

Sometimes, Viktor would take him somewhere. Today, they were taking a stroll on the Anichkov bridge. The sun was now setting and the view was simply spectacular. The orange color of sky reflects at the Fotanka River, and Viktor was sketching it on his sketchpad.

Yuuri took a peek and Viktor noticed it and showed it to him fully. "You can keep it," he said with a smile and he could only blink in disbelief again.

He shyly took the sketchpad from him and he bowed slightly. For some odd reason, he liked Viktor's sketch more than the actual scene

"Thank you."

Soon enough, he was done with the first movement, and Viktor's bright, satisfied smile  made his heart skip a beat or two.

* * *

 The aggravating ringing of his alarm clock grated his ears. As far as he remembered, he did not have another job interview until tomorrow.

He was willing to take a part time jobs even in convenience stores, just until he finds a decent project.

His parents usually sends him money from time to time, but he knew that he cannot rely on them forever. That's also why he moved to Russia.

He hit the alarm clock to turn it off, albeit quite violently. Yuuri was never a morning person at all. He  snuggled on one of his pillows and tried to find a comfortable position. It was not until a few minutes when something else rang - his doorbell. 

He growled lowly, and tried to ignore it. Then, it rang again. He groggily got out of bed picked up his glasses from the bedside table. There could only be one person who would ring his doorbell, anyway.

He moved out of the bed, deciding that he would fix it later to open the door to his apartment. Again, it took him a little while before he could unlock the door.

He opened the door, and the light haired man greeted him again in his cheery voice. "Good morning, Yuuri!" he was carrying a violin case with him. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes.

Yuuri didn't know if he would feel annoyed or what. "How can I help you?" he asked groggily.

"My accompanist broke his fingers in a drunken fist fight last night. Will you be my accompanist?" Viktor showed him at least three musical scores One of them was by Tchaikovsky. It was Souvenir d’un Lieu Cher op 42 - Melodiè. It was a difficult piece.

Yes. He was just probably dreaming. He attempted to closed the door again and go back to sleep, but Viktor stepped inside. "Yuuri, don't do this to me," the Russian man held the other's hand. 

"The competition is in two weeks and I know that you and I can make the listeners feel the true emotions the song wanted to convey. My old accompanist cannot do that, Yuuri," his voice was serious for once and Yuuri was fully awake now.

How could he say that when he just listened to him play once?  It was also a unfinished original piece to top that off.

"Please Yuuri," he tried again. "Viktor. I know that you konw a lot of better pianists than me. I was a nobody," he looked away. He would not want to be the one to be the cause of Viktor's loss in a competition. He could never handle the guilt of that.

"You know, Yuuri, when I first heard your music from out of the window, I could feel love from it. Most musicians I know lost their love for music and was only focused on winning," Viktor was looking at him straight to the eyes, still not letting go of his hand.

"Please," he tried one last time, and Yuuri finally agreed. Viktor's smile could probably light the whole town at night.

"Yosh! We'll start practicing later after breakfast!" he said excitedly.

"Come on, let's have breakfast on my place!"

Yuuri excused himself to find his house keys and locked the door. Viktor never took no for an answer.

* * *

"Viktor, are you living alone?" Yuuri asked.

"Nope. I'm living with my girl!" he said quite proudly, and Yuuri was taken aback. How come he didn't know that Viktor had a...

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Viktor pened the door to his apartment.

 It was the first time he actually got in the Russian's house. A big poodle that reminded him a lot of his own back in Japan greeted him with a dog hug.

"That's my girl, Makkachin!" Viktor introduced her to him. The dog frolicked for a little while, before giving Viktor a dog hug as well and Viktor lovingly patted her head.

Yuuri took a look around his house and it was full of still life paintings. There was a shelf on the side full of different musical scores from different artists.

"Please take a seat, " he gestured on one of the sofas. Yuuri shyly sat on the sofa and Makkachin tailed him and wagged his tail.

The dog was very affectionate, just like his own dog back then.

The breakfast was short and brief, but the paintings that hung on his walls gave him a wonderful feeling yet again. The pictures themselves were able to create some sort of music in his head. Viktor was telling him a lot of things too, and his voice,that he could recognize anywhere now was one of the most beautiful things in this room too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think so far. ;-;


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, guys. As you can probably notice, I was being impatient while writing this. I'll revamp this concept in a different story. 

I'm really sorry.

I hope you guys still look forward to it.


	4. Chapter 4

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8836237/chapters/20259751

HELLO GUYS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE-SOME-SORT-OF-REVAMP IS UP!!

Please tell me what you think


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